


Cocooning

by FatPuppy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 22:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatPuppy/pseuds/FatPuppy
Summary: Mary stops by the bunker to see her boys in the middle of their brotherly bickering.  Season 12.





	Cocooning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Been posting on FF.net for a number of years (currently as Fat Puppy, formerly, Obi the Kid), finally adding some of those stories here. Thanks so much for reading!

“What exactly are you boys doing?”

“Dean calls it cocooning. I just call it reading.”

Sam shrugged at their mother. He still wasn’t used to having her back, seeing as how he’d never truly had her as a mom to begin with. And she really wasn’t around all that often now, having chosen to hunt out on her own rather than take up residence at the bunker. Sam was okay with that. Dean was less understanding, but he was tolerating.

Nevertheless, she was here now and she was bored being stationary and not out tracking down monsters. Her sons on the other had seemingly had put themselves into a holding pattern when it came to hunting.

“Research?” She responded towards her youngest.

“Nope. Fiction. Old fiction. A Tale of Two Cities.”

“A tale of crap you mean.” Dean chimed in from a few feet away. 

They were both on the floor, sitting with legs stretched out and backs against the library wall. They were casual too. Both donned sweats. Dean a tee shirt. Sam a hoodie. 

“It’s a classic, Dean.”

“Yeah, classic piece of…”

“Dude! Really?”

“Yeah, really, Sam. It’s 800 pages of snooze-ville.”

“It’s 341 pages.”

“Same difference.” Dean said, hurling a handful of pistachio shells at his little brother.

“Dude, you are so cleaning that up.”

“You’re whiny today.”

“I’m not whiny, Dean.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

Mary, feeling like a ping pong ball with her head bouncing back and forth at the childish banter, decided to halt the nonsense.

“What the hell! Stop it. Both of you. Damn it. What is wrong with you two?”

“Sam started it.”

“Did not, Dean.”

Mary again. “Enough! Is this what you do when you’re not hunting? Act like four year olds?”

Dean shrugged and smirked at his brother. “As Sam said, it’s called cocooning, Mom.”

“It’s called acting like children, Dean. Aren’t you almost forty now? And what the hell is cocooning?”

“You want the actual meaning or the Dean meaning?” Sam said, plucking a shell out of his long hair and flicking it back at his older brother.

“I really don’t care, Sam.” Mary had come now to stand in front of them, centered. Arms were crossed; glaring at her grown boys. 

Sam cleared his throat, placing the book upside down on his lap to hold his page. “The official definition is the practice of spending leisure time at home in preference to going out. Dean and I couldn’t agree on where to go, so we agreed on none of the above. Therefore, I am reading.”

“No, wrong as usual, Sam. We didn’t not agree on where to go, we didn’t agree on what to do.”

Turning his head in confusion, Sam held his arms out in a what-the-hell gesture. “That’s the same damn thing, Dean.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

A whistle pierced the air so loud, it caused hands to cover ears. Clearly, Mary had had it with the infantile quibbling. “Enough! Seriously. Enough. Fine, you both decided to not do anything this evening.”

“Or yesterday.” Dean tattled. “Or the day before. And probably tomorrow too. Sam said so.”

Little brother gave a look to big brother; eyes narrowed. Mary grabbed the book from Sam’s grasp. “So help me, Sam, if you say ‘did not, Dean’, I will kick your ass.”

Dean smiled. That! Was absolute proof of where he came from. He was so much like his mother in so many ways. “Seriously, Sammy,” he said, unable to hold himself back and not make a smart ass remark. “Don’t argue with your big brother. I am your elder. Respect your elders.”

A glare from mother to youngest son, warning him to not fire back. 

Once the room was settled, she addressed them as adults. “So, you are essentially taking a break from hunting. That’s what this is really all about.”

“I think so, Mom. Despite Dean’s lack of maturity, I guess this is our way of disengaging from the reality of our lives for a short time. Yeah, it’s a little childish, but...”

“We’ve earned it, damnit.” Dean finished for his brother, defending the behavior to mother; their recently back-from-the-dead mother who had missed their entire childhood save for Dean’s first four years and Sam’s first six months. 

Mary wasn’t so sold on what Dean was saying after seeing their act. “You take a break by squabbling with each other like toddlers?”

“Squabbling like brothers,” Dean corrected. “I believe it’s our right as brothers to fight. We’re together practically 24/7, Mom. You expect us not to get on each other’s nerves?”

“I expect you to take a break from each other, like normal people. At the very least you can hang out in different areas of the bunker. Yet, here you sit. The both of you. A few feet part in the same room while claiming to be on some sort of weird vacation. If you’re fighting so much, take a freakin’ break.”

“We are takin’ a break. We’re not hunting right now.”

“Dean, no. You take a break from each other! You do have permission do your own things once in a while.”

“We do. Sammy goes to boring-ass movies about French one-eyed painters and I go get drunk at the local bar. See? Separate.”

Sam, evidently having enough of Dean trashing his hobbies, jumped in to defend himself. “The movie wasn’t about a one-eyed French painter, Dean, it was about a French horn player.”

“Oh, I stand corrected. Not boring at all. Now...is that a French french horn player or a French horn player or just a french horn player?”

“Dean...”

Another ear-screeching whistle. “Oh my god! Is this because I wasn’t around when you were kids? Or because your dad dragged you from motel to motel for your entire childhood? Or that Sam didn’t have a parent to protect him against his older brother?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean held up hands in protest. “Sam had a parent. He had me. I protected him.”

“You protected him from yourself?”

“Well, yeah, no, yeah. What? No. I protected him. Without me, he’d just be a drooling mop-headed giant.”

“Dude!” Sam hurled his book at Dean’s head. 

Dean ducked, grabbed the book and tossed it into the green beer cooler.

“Damn it, Dean.” Launching himself off the floor, the long-legged Winchester saved his book and slammed the cooler top down, but not before dumping a handful of ice into his brother’s lap.

The chill quickly sinking through his pants, it was Dean’s turn to go on the attack, hurling toward little brother. Ready to tackle, his progress was suddenly stopped by a strong female hand to the forehead. One also landed on Sam. 

“Clearly,” she said as she pushed them both backwards towards the library table, “You spend far too much time together. That, or you are de-aging and becoming morons. Either way, I can’t deal with it. So, we can either do something together as a family and enjoy the time off, without the battle, or I can leave you both here and I can get back to hunting. You stress me out, boys. I’m gonna need to kill something soon.”

The brothers leaned against the table before their mother removed her hands. 

Sam laughed. And when Dean and Mary asked him, in sync, what was so funny, he laughed again. “Dude, mom sounds just like you. I mean, JUST like you. Or you like her. No wonder you made a good mother.”

Expecting the older to take Sam’s words as an insult, Mary braced herself and prepared to smack them upside the head again. She was surprised when Dean did just the opposite of what she thought. 

“Huh. Yeah. Maybe so, Sammy. I did have good maternal instincts. And yes, I’m okay with admitting that. I was a pretty good mom when I had to be.”

Mary felt her heart drop. Her son...her 4-year old son had made a good mother to his little brother. Not in pretend fun or game, but because he had to. Because it was involuntarily forced onto him. 

And without that instinct and determination...Sam would have never... 

She left the thought unfinished and said, “You shouldn’t have had to make a good mother, Dean.”

“But I was. And here we are.” He tossed her comment aside and refocused. “We bicker, Mom. We fight. We get on each other’s nerves. All the damn time. This is our life. There are no other options on the table for us. Trust me. We’ve tried ‘em all. Not a single one turned out well. In fact, most ended in disaster. Or worse.” Dean shared a fond look with his brother. “We do what we do and we do it well. We do it together. And to be perfectly honest, we’re usually in here fighting with each other and no one else around. Occasionally, Cas’ll get caught in the middle, but we just leave him confused and he’ll walk away shaking his head. But me and Sam? We’re good. Hell, we’re probably better than we’ve ever been.”

Peace said, Dean hoped their mom would get it and understand as best she could. To her credit, she did try, sitting between them where they still leaned on the table. 

“All this is true, Sam?”

Sam nodded. “This is our life, Mom. We’ve accepted it. And we’re okay with it. The bickering, it’s all just part of us. Stress relief, you know? Being as normal as we can be in our non-normal lives. So?”

“So?” Mary echoed, her face etching up in a smile now. Understanding coming. “My boys. My wonderful boys,” she said fondly, hearing the acceptance, pride and love in their words. “I can’t begin to know your lives. Everything you’ve gone through. But I see you together and yeah, it all makes sense now, I suppose. You have this thing between you. This...bond that I don’t think I’ll ever be a part of.”

Sam opened his mouth, ready to stop her thought, but she put a hand up to prevent it. 

“No, listen. I see it. Actually, more than that. I feel it. And I know that I’ll never have anything like that with anyone. And to be honest, I don’t think I'd want it. It’s a bit of an unnatural feeling. Codependency. This fierce need that you two have, to be together. I don’t know. And before you protest, I’m not criticizing. Far from it really. It’s extraordinary and invaluable and apparently...it was who you were meant to be. This wrangling that you do with each other that drives me crazy, but that you both seem to feed from. You’re right. I’m just new to all this and well...I’m your mom. Regardless of where I’ve been and even if I’m not really sure how to act like it...”

“You were pretty damn convincing there a minute ago.” Dean didn’t get impressed easily, so the compliment was rare. 

Mary nodded. “I guess I was, wasn’t I? It did shut you both up.” A smile to her boys as she reached down to set a hand on each of theirs. “Whatever it has to be, I’m glad you have each other. And if that means you fight like children from time to time, I suppose that’s just something I’ll have to get used to when I visit.” Now, she placed an arm around each of her boys. 

“I guess we can’t convince you to stay here with us then?”

“No, Sam. And I think that’s okay. As you have found yourselves and accepted your lives, I need to find me. I need to find where I fit. And I can’t do that here. I’m sorry.”

“We can understand that, Mom. Believe me, it took us...me...a long time to determine my place. For so long, I just wanted out or I just wanted normal. But this is my normal. This is my life. Here, with my brother, fighting monsters.” A welcoming Sam leaned against her and was happy to see Dean do the same. He knew how much Dean wanted their mom to be a constant part of their lives, so to see him disappointed but also accepting...that was progress. 

“But,” Mary said softly, “That doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with you now, while I’m here. So, what should we do?”

The trio stood and thought about the question. 

“And no reading ancient novels. Sorry, Sam, but Dean’s right. That’s just mind-numbing. Same with French movies about french people and french horns, or whatever the hell that was. Paint drying fun, right? No.”

Dean smiled big. “Ha! You are so my mother. Sorry, Sammy. Two against one. We win. No stupid french crap.”

“Whatever, Dean.”

“Whatever, Dean. Good comeback, Sammy.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

Dean reached out to toss Sam’s hair.

“Cut it out, Dean.”

“Or what, you’ll tell Mom?”

“Or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Dude, you only wish.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s tee shirt, then hands went to their foreheads again. Smack!

They whined in unison. “Ow! Mom!”

Her hands went from forehead to ears as she pinched one earlobe in each hand and began dragging them across the room. 

“The cocooning is over. We are going out. We are going to a bar. We are going to play pool. We are going to con some poor saps out of their money. That is how you were taught, right? Of course. And we will have fun. Got it? Good. Meet you in the car in ten.”

They rubbed their ears when she released them as they walked away. Sam punching Dean in the shoulder. “You’re like a mini mom, Dean.”

“A mini-mom that can beat your ass in pool.”

“We'll see about that.”

“We will.” Dean kept rubbing at his ear as they disappeared around the corner. “Hurts like hell, how’d she get such powerful pinchy fingers?”

Their voices faded out, leaving Mary standing alone. This...all of this. It was too much for her. She really did need to find where she fit. She knew for certain it wasn’t here. She loved these boys. Her boys. But as much as they wanted to think otherwise, they didn’t need her. Her presence, she felt, was almost an intrusion into a bond where no other being could enter or truly comprehend. They needed each other far more than they needed her or anyone else. They fit. Hunting. Cocooning. Whatever the hell they were doing at any given time, they fit in their lives and with each other. 

Exactly how it should be. 

The end


End file.
